


Never gone this long without a kill before

by teskodanceparty



Category: Being Human, Being Human (North America), Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-19
Updated: 2012-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-29 19:06:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teskodanceparty/pseuds/teskodanceparty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She refuses to be a means to an end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never gone this long without a kill before

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song 'Vultures' by John Mayer, all characters belong to people who are not me.
> 
> Set after 'Abandon all hope...' Supernatural and pre-season 1 Being Human

After Carthage, she runs; tail between her legs, licking her wounds. It's not something she's used to, her human may be a different story all together but she doesn't care, it doesn't matter now.

Lucifer, beautiful amazing thing that he is, had succeeded, bringing about Death himself and taking care of what little hope the Winchesters had left in one fell swoop.

But for all that she loved him, and she did love him, she couldn't stay. She'd seen what he did, all those demons ( _could have been her, could have been her_ ) and she hates thoroughly, blindly.

She refuses to be a means to an end.

She hates the Winchesters for being the never ending thorn in her side, and the old man they carry with them like a sad reminder of what their father never was. She hates Castiel, for being a soldier when she couldn't, not distracted by love or loathing or any single thing, just shifting his duties from angel-of-the-lord to soldier-of-free-will. She hates him the most for being right about Lucifer.

She refuses to be just another demon.   

-:-

She zig-zags until she lands in Boston, pissed off, skin itching from the time it takes her to heal, from running. She's so close to human now it's almost painful.

This city belongs to vampires, a fact that seems to go completely unseen by everyone else and drags a dry chuckle from her before she can help it. She sees the signs, sigils hidden in graffiti from human eyes. It tingles down her spine, the magic, the simple proximity to something _other_.

There's a bar, maybe a block away from the nest that she knows they frequent. She's been there a dozen times and nothing comes of it until something finally does.

His slim fitting suit is as sharp as the smile that spreads across his face that's more a baring of teeth than anything when he spots her, and her eyes go black. Frankly, she's surprised that she's even capable of doing it anymore.

-:-

It's not half as surprising when he corners her in an alley two nights later, a block away from the bar on her walk home. (Home is a studio apartment she 'borrowed' from a baby vampire she follows there three days after she gets into town. She doubts she'll miss it much, sweeps her dust out the door and wipes her hands of it.)

He shoves her against the wall, face first, her feet slipping in the damp grime of the alley and they both snarl. His thumb drags against the nape of her neck before he digs his fingers into her skin and she fights not to squirm, to clench her fists and see how far she can push this little fanger.

His beard scratches against the side of her face, her ear as he leans in to speak.

"What. Are. You?" she feels him grit it out, his teeth snapping and just missing her cheek.

"Sweetheart," she groans, giving in and flicking her wrist, grinning at the grunt of pain it elicits. His grip on her loosens enough for her to break it, pushes him onto his knees by clenching her fist and his eyes flash black, "You've got no idea."

She's not sure which of them moves first, only that they both run and she hates him (and herself) for it.

-:-

She doesn't see him again for weeks. She's not looking, just notes his absence in the way the baby vamps seem to breath a bit easier.

She doesn't particularly like vampires, but that doesn't stop her from pressing close when one passes her around the pool table his two friends invited her to. Pool isn't her game, but she's drinking them under the table (which is stupid and funny and sad all at once), and has swiped one of their wallets already.

She's leaning in and up, line of her neck exposed and she knows that's where this one is looking because if he was paying attention to her hands in his jacket he'd probably try to rip her head off. But before she can pull away she feels it, hears a whisper run through the fairly crowded building.

"Marcus," one of the boys she's with says and she starts to turn.

She's pulled back so suddenly she doesn't fight it, not when she's shoved out the back door and into the passenger seat of a town car idling at the mouth of the alley.

"Stealing from those weaker than you is frowned on in this 'family'." He says, and she can hear the air quotes around the word family. She snorts a laugh, turning in her seat to look at him.

"Lucky for me I'm not in 'this family' than, isn't it?" She adds the air quotes, and he arches an eyebrow, corner of his mouth quirking just enough to count as a smile before he turns it into a scowl.

"Marcus." he grunts, not even glancing in her direction.

"I figured that one out myself sunshine," she says and motions him to turn down the next street. "Meg." She adds. There's silence except for the clicking of the turn signal and her breathing.

"What-" He starts to ask and she cuts him off.

"Demon," she says, and points towards home.

He parks and gets out, gets the door for her because he's that fast, grabs her by the elbow and leads her up the steps. She leaves the doors unlocked, hex bags at every entrance a better safety measure than any, so he just pushes her through, shutting and locking it behind her.

"She dead, the one this place belonged to?" he ask, fingers skimming through dust on the mantle as he walks around, examining the place.

"She was already dead, I just reminded her a little." she says, shrugs and pulls the wallets and money from her jacket pockets. She tosses them on the small table in the kitchen, grabs a beer from the fridge and kicks off her boots.

He's pulled off his jacket as well, sleeves pushed back over the chorded pale muscle of his forearms. His hair is darker, almost an auburn in the light streaming in from the streets and she grins.

"Thirsty?" she asks, extending the beer in her hand towards him. His answering smile isn't nice, but than neither of them really are. He's across the room before she blinks, pushes her against the wall, beer bottle broken and forgotten on the floor as he moves her hair to the side and leers.

"Starving." He murmurs against her neck and then he's sinking fangs into flesh. There's a shuffle, maybe a fight, obviously blood but she can't be sure.

-:-

She loses time.

It's the only thing she can think of to excuse the fact that she wakes up naked, sheets drawn up around her, curtains wide open pouring in sunlight. She never leaves them open during the day, prefers the never ending twilight blackout curtains afford her.

She stretches, thinks for a moment _get a cat_ , then scoffs at that. She doesn't want something so incredibly dependent on her.

She sleeps on and off all day, wakes once the sun is down. She feels sore in all the best places, but shaky, or her meat suit does, anemia draining what little energy (and color, _god she's pale_ ) she has.

There's someone else in the house, she can sense them before she steps into the kitchen, pulling a t-shirt on as she goes.

"You need to eat." He says, setting down boxes of take-out, an eyebrow arching in question the only thing telling her he's noticed her lack of clothing. She ignores the food and the way her stomach grumbles, crowds into his space. He looks down at her like he's bored but there's something, the clench of his jaw, the way his fingers dance over the top of the paper bag, just _something_ that tells her not to back off.

"I don't like you," she sighs, let's the stubble on his jaw rasp along her cheek when she pushes up onto her toes, presses open-mouthed kisses against his skin and smiles into it when his chest rumbles with laughter.

"Don't really like you either." He says, hands on her hips and lifting until she's stuck between him and the refridgerator door. His eyes bleed to black, fangs extending with a soft hiss and really, she doesn't like him. He's probably not fond of her either, what with the pick pocketing and killing newly changed vamps and kicking his ass.

But she's stopped running, maybe so has he, and for now she'll take that.


End file.
